


The Years of Rebellion

by shadowsamurai



Series: The Affinity Chronicles [2]
Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Minor Violence, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of The Affinity Chronicles shows Boyd and Grace's relationship as it develops and cracks. The Years of Rebellion will feature tales from the day they start 'big school' to the day when they decide what to do with the rest of their lives. Join Boyd and Grace the journey of their friendship continues, where love's delicate wings flutter for the pair for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> So the challenge for the Years of Rebellion was to start to incorporate clips from the series (up to and including S7), small bits that we're given as background to the characters. Those bits are usually nothing more than a line and perhaps a look shared between Boyd and Grace, but it's enough to build a story on.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

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Peter Boyd was a strange boy. At twelve years old, he was already quite tall and stocky, with long dark hair that fell across his face and eyes that almost seemed black. He didn't attract many friends; his permanent scowl discouraged most people from approaching him.

In fact, there was only Grace who liked him.

Or at least she had.

Grace Foley was a lanky girl, with long blonde locks, bright blue eyes, and some cute freckles in all the right places on her face. And she was Peter's best friend.

Or at least she used to be.

Peter wasn't quite sure what had happened between them. His parents told him it was just 'one of those things', that people did tend to drift apart when they grew up. Peter didn't want to believe it; he thought that he and Grace would be friends forever.

But going to school had changed all of that. He was lucky enough, so he thought, to end up attending the same secondary school as Grace, and he had naively thought that they could spend time together while there.

Grace, it seemed, had other ideas. She had changed, become more of a snob, and she now thought she was better than everyone else, including and especially Peter.

But he knew something more serious was going on. William and Mary never came round to visit his parents any more and whenever Peter asked about it, Joseph would tell his son that it didn't matter and then change the subject.

The other children made fun of Peter because of his dark features and brooding expression, but he ignored them all, opting for sinking further into anger than face the bullies.

Peter hated being alone. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were when he was ten; it seemed such a long time ago now. He wanted friends, people who would accept him as he was. And he wanted Grace.

But for every problem that arose, Peter always had a plan. It took him a while, sometimes, to formulate one, but he always got there in the end.

Usually, his plans were complex and subtle, but this time he decided to be different. This time, he would be bold and brash, something fairly out of character for him.

Peter was always the first to leave school at the end of the day. He did want to be caught by the bullies and rather than fight, he just avoided confrontation. He walked quickly, reaching the corner he wanted within a few minutes. All that was left then was to wait.

Normally quite tolerant, Peter found himself acting impatiently that day as he watched for Grace approaching. If she didn't want to be friends with him any more, that was fine, but he wanted her to tell him.

Peter heard Grace before he saw her; there was no mistaking her laugh and his heart ached a little at the sound. He had lost his best friend; was it his fault? He was about to find out.

"Hello."

Grace stopped, seeing him before she heard him speak. "What do you want?" she asked, sneering a little.

But Peter could see now that she was only acting, trying to impress the group of giggling girls that accompanied her. "I need to talk to you," he replied, ignoring the sniggers.

"Well I don't want to talk to you," Grace replied haughtily.

Peter wasn't having any of it. "I don't care. We are going to talk, alone. Now."

Grace faltered as she decided how to take control of the situation. "Fine. You can have five minutes. That's being generous." She turned to her friends. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As soon as they were alone, Peter asked, "Have I upset you or offended you in some way?"

"Why?"

"You don't talk to me any more. You don't like me," Peter stated, and before Grace could reply, he continued. "It's alright, I understand. Your friends are probably more fun than me, and…cooler. I just wish you could tell me you don't want to be friends any more."

Something started to build rapidly in Peter, and to his astonishment, he felt tears pricking his eyes. He turned away quickly, refusing to cry in front of anybody, especially Grace.

"Forget it," he muttered and stormed off.

For her part, Grace had been finding it very difficult to ignore Peter and to treat him as she had been doing. He was many things, but to her, he was a friend and she liked him. She didn't care how he looked or how he appeared to be; she knew he was a kind boy, with his heart in the right place.

Watching him walk away from her hurt Grace more than she would have expected, and she ran after him, never wanting to see his back retreating in such a way ever again.

"Peter, wait!" she called.

Peter stopped but didn't turn around. "What?"

"My parents don't want me to see you. I think they've had a falling out with your parents over something, and they told me to stay away from you," Grace explained, her eyes downcast. "I didn't want to. I…I like you, Peter. I want to be your friend."

Slowly, he turned. His plan of being straightforward had, surprisingly, worked. He decided he might have be to more assertive more often. "What about your new friends?" Peter asked. "They don't like me."

"I don't care. I like you," Grace repeated, reaching out and taking his hand before smiling slyly. "Besides, I'm sure you could think of a plan to win them round if you wanted to."

Peter looked at her in surprise. "A plan?"

Grace nodded. "You always have a plan. Now, will you walk me home please?"

"What about your parents?" Peter asked.

"Friendship's more important."

FIN


	2. Swings and Roundabouts

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Grace walked into the park humming quietly to herself and thinking of her best friend. She decided that she'd buy Peter an ice-cream today; not for any particular reason, just because she felt like it.

Well, there was a reason. Grace still remembered that day Peter had confronted her, asked her why she didn't want to be friends with him any more. True, it had been a couple of years ago now, but Grace remembered it like it was yesterday.

Her parents had been less than impressed about their daughter's decision to remain friends with Peter Boyd, but Grace had shown her stubborn streak and told them Peter would always be in her life. They had threatened her with everything, but Grace dug her heels in. Eventually, begrudgingly, her parents had relented and 'allowed' her to keep Boyd as a friend; William and Mary never referred to Peter by his first name any more.

Grace picked the centre swing and sat on it, enjoying the peace and quiet under the summer sun. Slowly, she started to move her legs back and forth, still humming gently to herself. At fourteen years old, Grace was starting to mature and boys were starting to notice her. All except one.

Peter.

He still looked at her the same as he had always done, like she was his best friend or the sister he'd never had, and he was still fiercely protective of her. That was why Grace enjoyed spending time with him. In a way, she never wanted Peter to look at her any differently.

Suddenly, the swing was pushed far forward and Grace squealed. As the swing moved backwards, she heard somebody laughing helplessly.

"Peter!" Grace exclaimed, glaring at the young man.

Peter was rolling on the grass clutching his sides. In the past two years, he had grown much taller, but he had lost his stocky build and was now a lanky teenager. Since Grace had agreed to stay his friend, Peter's disposition had improved greatly, but only in her company. But his parents too had noticed the change in their son, and they always welcomed Grace into the house.

"You're horrible to me!" Grace yelled, but Peter was still laughing. While he calmed down, Grace slowed the swing down and just let her legs move.

"Sorry, Grace, I couldn't resist," Peter said eventually.

"Well, I'll let you off. I think."

They chatted for a while about school, the future, and the hot summer sun, with Grace on the swing, her legs dangling, going back and forth, and Peter lay on the grass. There was nothing very special about that day, but it was imprinted in Grace's memory for some reason.

"Oh, ice-cream!" Grace exclaimed suddenly. She leapt off the swing, jumped over an astonished Peter and ran towards the ice-cream van.

Peter watched her go, the smile on his face growing. He always enjoyed seeing Grace and spending time with her, but there was something…innocent, and carefree about her as she swung her legs on the swing. Grace didn't know Peter had been stood watching her for quite some time before he decided to surprise her.

In fact, the real reason for what he had done was nothing to do with devilment, and everything to do with a flame that had surged in his chest when he saw her. Peter didn't know what it was, but he had the feeling it could change his and Grace's relationship forever if he pursued it. So instead, he buried it.

Stretching, Peter decided the ground was now uncomfortable, so he rose to his feet and made his way to the roundabout. Sitting down, he pushed himself around slowly, waiting for Grace to return.

The only indication that something was about to happen was the little giggle he heard. Then the roundabout began to turn faster and Peter had to hold on carefully. Unfortunately, his hand slipped and he went careening onto the floor.

Grace was looking down at him, unsuccessfully trying not to laugh. Peter's dark eyes flashed and for a moment, she thought he was going to shout at her. Too late she realised what was going through his mind.

With a cry, Grace went tumbling to the ground, ice-creams and all. For a moment she was confused when she collided with something soft, and then she realised Peter had used himself to break her fall. He'd wanted to scare her, not hurt her. Grace knew Peter would never hurt her.

And looking down into his eyes, her thoughts were confirmed. "Are we even now?" Peter asked mildly.

Grace thought about it, then rubbed ice-cream in his face. "Now we are," she replied, grinning.

Things were always that between them; swings and roundabouts, in more ways than one.

FIN


	3. Destination Unknown

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Peter was sat eating his lunch alone as usual when a familiar shadow fell across him. "Are you going to tell me why you've suddenly become permanently broody or not?" Grace asked without preamble.

Peter looked up. "What do you want to do with your life, Grace?"

"You'll laugh at me," she said, sitting down, not fazed by the change in conversation. "Well, no, actually, you're probably the only one who wouldn't."

"Go on."

"I want to go into psychology. I know that it's a relatively new field, but that's what makes it interesting. Plus it's quite an acceptable career for a woman to go into, I think."

Peter nodded. "I do as well."

Grace gave him a strange look. "You don't think I should get married, have a few kids and stay at home?"

"I think you should do what makes you happy," Peter replied. "What feels right to you."

"Are you taking anyone to the final ball?" Grace asked.

Peter shrugged. "I'm not even sure I'm going yet. After all, who would want to spend the night with me?"

"So what do you want to do with the rest of your life?" Grace said, deciding not to comment on her friend's poor choice of words.

"I want to join to police force."

Grace choked on her drink. "You're serious?"

"Always."

"No, no, I think it's a wonderful idea," she said hurriedly. "I was just remember when we played cops and robbers when we were younger."

Peter tilted his head on one side as he regarded her. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do," Grace replied, smiling. "I also remember you didn't like me every much, that's why you told me to be the robber. And I remember you used to scare me."

"Did I?"

Grace nodded. "You don't any more."

"I'm glad."

"And I remember you kissed me."

Peter kept his head down, pretending to eat, so Grace couldn't see him blushing. "It wasn't much of a kiss."

"And yet I remember it."

"Are there…different paths of psychology you can go into?" Peter asked eventually, looking up.

Grace looked at him, resting her chin on her hands. "What do you mean?"

For a moment, Peter forgot what he was saying as he stared into Grace's blue eyes. "Well, police have different…divisions, like CID, armed response. I wondered if psychology had something similar."

"It's funny you should mention that, but there's a new subject that well-known psychologists are trying to get made into an official line of work," she replied. "It's called forensic psychology."

"Isn't that a science?"

"Psychology is a science."

"I meant a prop…." Peter stopped suddenly. "Never mind."

Grace glared at him. "Yes, forensics is a *proper* science, but in this context, it means something different."

"Explain."

"Well, I-I'm not actually sure what it would entail yet, but that's only because the scholars haven't quite decided," Grace admitted.

Peter smiled. "Well, whatever it is, Grace, I'm sure you'll be good at it."

"Thank you. And I'm sure you'll make an excellent policeman."

"Perhaps."

"Now, are you going to tell me why you're being so moody?" Grace asked.

Peter sighed. "I don't want everything to change. It was bad enough coming to this school and making friends with you all over again. When we leave, things really will be different. You'll be in one place and I'll be in another, and we might not see each other that often."

Grace reached across the table and took hold of his hand. "You don't need to worry, Peter. Whatever happens, I'll always be in your life."

"I hope so," he replied, squeezing her hand.

FIN


	4. Too Late

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Peter walked slowly across the school grounds, his head down as usual, his thoughts the only company he kept. But there was something not quite right; a tingling sensation, right on the back on his neck. Looking up, Peter didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, so he carried on walking.

Throughout the day, though, the strange feeling continued, and once or twice, Peter caught girls looking at him. They didn't normally do this, so he checked there were no signs on his shirt, or mud stains on his trousers.

"They want a date for the ball," Grace told him as they walked home that night.

Peter stared at her. "There are plenty of other guys around."

"Yes, but they obviously want you to take them."

"Why?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "Because you're quite handsome. You're mysterious, and you're decent. All rare qualities in the males of this school, it seems," she said dryly.

"Has anybody asked you yet?" Peter made it sound casual.

"Yes."

He smiled slightly. Grace was found of cryptic or extremely long winded answers at times. "Have you accepted an invitation?"

"Not yet," she replied.

That surprised him. "Why not?"

"Waiting for the right person to ask me," Grace said. "Have you decided whether you're going to the ball or not?"

Peter shook his head. "No."

"Is that no, you haven't decided or no, you're not going?" Grace asked.

"No, I'm not going," he replied. "And it isn't because I don't think I'll be able to get a date. I just don't feel comfortable around people."

That was only part of the reason. Despite Grace's kind words, Peter didn't think he was good enough to be seen with anybody, especially the person he wanted to take the most: the person who was walking next to him. Grace was a popular girl, despite her friendship with him, and Peter wanted her to go with a popular guy, not someone who would be frowned at. And he was scared that if he asked Grace, she would say no. After all, he was younger than her by almost a year, and there was their friendship to consider.

Grace just smiled. "I understand," she said softly.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Peter sat cross-legged in front of the television, watching The Avengers raptly. He definitely had a small crush on Mrs Peel, but then, so did most people.

Joseph sat in his favourite armchair, reading the newspaper and puffing absently on his pipe. Elizabeth came in wiping her hands on a towel, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"Talk to him," she told her husband quietly.

Joseph looked at his son. "Why?"

"It's the ball tonight. Peter should be there."

"He said he didn't want to go."

"Don't you think there might be another reason?" Elizabeth asked.

Joseph sighed. "You mean he wanted to take Grace but either couldn't find the courage to ask her, or he did ask her and she turned him down?"

His wife nodded. "Grace is Peter's only friend. If we can help him keep her, let's do that." She put a hand on her husband's shoulder, smiled and left the room.

Joseph put his pipe down and regarded the back of his son's head. Peter had always been a strange child, with a dark, brooding quality, but underneath all that he was a good person with a large heart, and his father was very proud of him.

"Peter, can I talk to you for a moment?" Joseph said eventually. "I know The Avengers are on, but this is quite important."

Peter turned obediently. "Yes, Father?"

"I want you to know that no matter what anyone else says, your mother and I are very proud of you. We have no doubts that you are going to grow up into a fine man. This ball is a rite of passage, son. You should go."

Peter lowered his head as though he was being chastised. "Yes, Father."

"I'm not telling you to go - you've done nothing wrong," Joseph assured his son. "I just think that you should go. Is Grace going?"

Peter nodded.

"Does she have a date?"

"I don't know," Peter replied. "She hasn't told me is she has."

"But you think she might," Joseph said.

"Grace is a popular girl, I'd be surprised if she didn't."

"But does she *want* to go to the ball with the other young man?"

Peter looked up. "What do you mean, Father?"

"Son, you and Grace share something special, a connection that is rarely seen. Your destiny may be to remain friends forever, or your relationship may turn into something more," Joseph said. "It could remain unspoilt until the day you die, or it could be battered, bent, broken, and re-shaped. But I can see that you will always be in each other's lives, and this is a moment you should be sharing. Even if you don't go to the ball with Grace, you should go and be near her."

"I don't have anything to wear," Peter replied after a long paused.

Joseph smiled. "Come with me."

He led his son upstairs and into the main bedroom. There, hung on the wardrobe, was a suit that was just Peter's size.

Peter looked at his father. "Did you plan this?"

"Sort of."

"And the flower?" Peter asked, pointing to the single red rose.

"I thought you could give it to Grace," Joseph replied, still smiling.

"What would you have done if I'd decided not to go, Father?"

"Then I would have given it to your mother," Joseph said before looking at his watch. "If you're going to ball, son, you need to get a move on. I'll leave you to it."

Peter fingering the sleeve of the jacket and noticed the bright white shirt underneath it. He tried to imagine Grace's face if he showed up on her doorstep wearing the suit and with the rose for her. A slow smile crept onto his face and as quickly as he could, he changed.

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Peter was very self-conscious as he walked to Grace's house. He felt like he was in a straightjacket, and he decided that no matter what path he chose in the police force, he would never wear a suit.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked tentatively on the Foleys' door. William opened it and frowned instantly. "What do you want, Boyd?"

Peter tried not scowl. "Is Grace in, sir?"

"Of course not."

"She's gone to the ball?" Peter asked.

"Of course," William replied. "A handsome, strapping young man collected her earlier. She seemed very happy about it as well."

Peter gritted his teeth together. "Thank you, sir. Good evening." He turned and strode down the path.

He waited until he got around the corner, where no one could see him, before sinking to the ground. He'd waited too late and now Grace had gone to the ball with some other guy. For once, Peter had no idea what he was going to do.

TBC


	5. Maybe Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows on directly from the previous chapter.

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Despite his father's words, Peter couldn't bring himself to go to the ball. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing Grace happy with some other guy. He knew it was his own fault for not asking her sooner, but he didn't think she would have said yes. And he didn't realise how much he cared for her until he heard William's words: 'a handsome, strapping young man collected her earlier. She seemed very happy about it as well.' And from the tone Mr Foley used, he was happy about it as well.

And for all Peter knew, Grace *could* be happy with this other guy. It just didn't feel right to him, somehow.

Peter wandered the streets aimlessly, knowing he should have gone straight home but feeling unable to face his parents. He knew his father would have been disappointed he had given up so easily, but Peter didn't see how he could make the situation better.

Of course, there was always the option of going to the ball and simply asking Grace to dance. But then there were problems with that; if the guy she was with didn't want her to dance, it could get nasty. If he was a 'strapping young man', as William had said, then it was safe to assume he was one of the sportsmen of the school, which didn't bode well for Peter if a fight broke out.

And then there was the humiliation if Grace declined his offer to dance. But as Peter walked, he decided he had to know, one way or another, and straightening resolutely, he made his way to the ball.

When Peter arrived, he could see that the number of students had thinned already, and it was only then that he realised how late it was. His dark eyes searched the hall, but there was no sign of Grace anywhere. He did, however, see one of her friends close by and taking a deep breath, he walked over.

"Excuse me, Rose, have you seen Grace?" Peter asked politely.

Rose turned round and gave him a small smile. She was the only one of Grace's friends who seemed to slightly like Peter. "Not for a while, sorry."

"Do you have any idea where she might be?"

Rose shook her head. "She was with James last time I saw her."

"James?" Peter asked.

"James Harrison. He was her date tonight."

Peter's heart sank rapidly. His worst fear was confirmed; not only was James Harrison the captain of the rugby team, he also played cricket and a little football, and was one of the most popular people at the school. Not to mention handsome as hell, according to all the girls.

"Right. Thanks, Rose. Sorry to have disturbed you," Peter said, forcing a smile on his face. He turned away, then looked back, focussing on her date. "Do you mind?"

The young man looked at him, then at the flower he was holding. "Nah. Go for it."

"Thank you." Peter held the rose up and smiled genuinely. "For you. For not laughing at me."

Rose blushed. "Thank you. You know," she said as Peter started to walk away, "Grace wanted to come to the ball with you. She was just waiting for you to ask. She told me that James was a poor second choice."

"Really?"

Rose nodded. "Really. You're a strange boy, Peter Boyd, but Grace seems to like you and I trust her judgement. Even now, if you can find her, Grace would leave with you."

"Thanks, Rose. Enjoy the rest of your evening!" Hope flaring in veins, Peter ran from the hall, questioning a few students as he went and ignoring the strange looks he received. Ten minutes later, he knew where he would find Grace and he was sprinting towards he as fast as he could.

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Grace sat on the grass looking up at the stars, James' arm flung carelessly around her shoulders. It was a clear and peaceful evening, but Grace didn't feel comfortable alone with this boy.

"I'm cold, James," she said eventually. "Can we go now?"

James laughed. "It's summer, Grace, and this has to be one of the mildest evening we've had. Relax." Slowly, he ran his hands through her hair.

"Please don't."

"There's no one else around, Grace. It's fine."

"James, stop!" she shouted as he tried to kiss her.

"Don't be so uptight," he replied. "There's nobody about, nobody's going to see us."

"That's not the point. I don't want to!"

James stared at her incredulously. "Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to be in your position right now?"

"So you should have taken one of them to the ball," Grace snapped.

"But I wanted you," James replied, his tone firm. "And I'm going to have you. Just lie down and relax. It'll all be fine, I promise."

"James, no!" Grace shouted as he pushed her on her back.

Suddenly the weight that had been pinning her disappeared and she was able to breathe again. Grace sat up shakily, wondering what had happened, when she saw James trying to defend himself against an enraged attacker.

"How dare you!" the attacker was shouting, spittle flying everywhere. "The lady said no, that means no, you piece of shit!"

Grace's eyes grew wide. "Peter, stop!"

Peter hesitated, his fist pulled back, ready to punch. "Grace, he…."

"He didn't actually do anything. You saved me. It's alright now, Peter. Just leave him."

The broody young man lowered his arm and turned, which was all the opportunity James needed. He lurched forwards and tackled Peter to the ground, pounding him with his fists as soon as he could.

There wasn't much Peter could do except raise his arms and try to protect himself, but it wasn't much good. Grace, who was watching in horror, decided action was needed. She scrambled to her feet, crept up behind James and kicked him.

James turned in surprise and that was all the distraction Peter needed. Throwing him off, Peter's rage surfaced again and he started kicking James as hard as he could. This time, Grace didn't stop him.

When James was barely conscious, Peter stopped and hunkered down, grabbing the bloodied young man by the throat. "I'm only going to say this once," Peter said, his voice low and deadly calm. "You go near Grace again and I will kill you. And if you tell anyone about this, we'll just spread the rumour of how crap you are in the sack due to your little dick. Got it? Not to mention the fact those all those muscles aren't real; drugs, I understand, can do wonderful things to the body."

James eyes were so wide that they almost popped out of their head.

"So if anyone asks, you were jumped by a gang who wanted to rob you, but you didn't have anything they wanted," Peter continued. "Do we understand each other?"

James nodded as fast as he dared; he was feeling too nauseous for many quick motions.

"Good." Peter let go of him, straightened and turned cautiously. "Are you alright?" he asked Grace.

She nodded, albeit a little shakily. "We should get out of here."

They walked away quickly, the silence between them quickly growing uncomfortable. Finally, Peter stopped. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

Grace shook her head. "I can't go home like this. My parents will know something's wrong."

Peter looked away. "Blame me. They hate me anyway."

"I wouldn't do that," Grace snapped back. "You saved me."

"I scared you."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked, surprised.

"My temper. I…once I lose it, I can't get it back under control," he admitted.

"Do you remember when you saved me from those bullies while we were trick-or-treating?"

Peter nodded. "Yes."

"I wasn't scared then, and I'm not scared now. You saved me," Grace repeated. "And I know, as I always have, that you would never hurt me."

"No, I wouldn't," Peter promised firmly.

"Good. Now I think you owe me a dance."

"What?"

"A dance. You owe me. You didn't show up at the ball, so I want a dance now."

"Here?" Peter asked.

"Of course." Grace smiled as she took his hand. "We can make our own music."

Not trusting himself to speak, Peter took her into his arms, smiling as she rested her head on his shoulder, and slowly, under the moonlight, they began to dance.

FIN


	6. Endings and New Beginnings

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As Peter sat looking at the lights across the river, he shivered. It was colder than he thought it would be, and his thin shirt wasn't much protection against the wind.

"I told you that you should have brought a jacket," his girlfriend said from her comfortable position nestled in his side.

Peter looked down at her. "You didn't bring one either," he replied.

Grace rolled her eyes. "That's because you're supposed to be the gentleman and offer me yours."

"Oh, right. I'll try to remember that."

Peter could scarcely believe the way his life had changed over the past couple of years. He had entered into higher education while he decided if the police really was the career he wanted to pursue. He was studying history, although he wasn't enjoying it at all; he spent most of his time thinking he should have taken a trade up rather than studying.

Or Peter was thinking about Grace instead of studying.

On her eighteenth birthday, Peter had taken her out to a modest restaurant and then they went to the cinema to see a film of Grace's choice. At the end of the evening, she had thanked him sincerely and then kissed him very seriously, telling him to pick her up the following evening so they could do something together.

The change in their relationship was only subtle and it happened very slowly. They went out at least once a week to different places, doing and seeing different things, until they were officially dating.

Peter couldn't believe Grace was finally his. After the final ball, things had returned to normal between them, but as they grew that little bit older, Peter also grew more confident, and when Grace agreed to become his girlfriend, he knew he had done the right thing by waiting.

Now it was his eighteenth birthday, and it had been the best day of his life. Grace had treated him to lunch, where they shared their first bottle of wine and talked for hours. Afterwards, Grace took Peter to see his favourite band. Personally, she couldn't stand them, but the look on his face when he realised where they were going was worth the torture her ears had endured.

"Are you comfortable or do you want to go?" Peter asked quietly.

Grace thought about that. She was comfortable, but she was cold, and she told him that. "But it's nice down here by the river, and it's peaceful."

"It is." Peter kissed the top of her head and then said what had been on his mind for the past week. "You've been very quiet lately. Is everything alright?"

Grace sighed. She knew this moment had been coming, but she didn't want to talk about it that night. "Let's not ruin the moment, Peter. I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*"What?"* Peter shouted loudly. "Why?"

Grace winced. She hated it when he raised his voice. "This is a good opportunity for me."

"I understand that, and you know I wouldn't want to stop you from doing what you wanted, but why do we have to break up?" he asked, masking his hurt with anger.

"I'll be at university," Grace tried to explain. "It's a long way for either of us to travel to see each other."

"You mean you might meet someone better."

"That's not what I meant at all and you know it," Grace retorted. "Stop being stupid!"

"How do you want me to react?"

"Maturely!"

"This is mature! I can be hurt and mature at the same time, can't I?" Peter yelled.

Grace stared at him. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't see our relationship lasting over such a long distance."

"You won't even give it a try," he said, his voice quiet and accusing.

"I think this is the best way for both of us."

"I see."

Grace sighed. "No, you don't, but I hope you will in time. Peter, I still want to be friends with you. I can't imagine my life without you."

"I'm not sure I want to be friends with you," he replied sulkily.

Tentatively, Grace laid a hand on his cheek, trying not to feel hurt when he deliberately moved away. "Do you remember I told you that I always wanted you in my life? I meant it. I don't regret the relationship we had, but if I'd known it would do this to our friendship, I would never have entered into it. Our friendship is what's important, Peter, and if…if the only way to keep that is to stay here, then that's what I'll do."

"No, you bloody won't," Peter said firmly. Then he sighed sadly. "This is your chance, Grace, I know it is. You're going to need a lot of academic background if you want to be good at this psychology thing. And I think you'll be very good at it. I just…I'm going to miss you. Not just because…I like you a lot, but because you're the only friend I've got."

"You'll make more, Peter, I have no doubt of that."

"They won't be you, though."

Grace smiled as he turned his face so his cheek was resting in her palm. "One day, we might get another chance at this, but for now, friends is all we can be." She moved back and held her hand out. "Friends?"

Peter gave her a wry smile. "I suppose so," he replied, shaking hands with her.

FIN


End file.
